The Harbucks' Menu
by MusicHoldsMySoul
Summary: 'Now everything was just a habit. A habit he relied on, more then he had realized.' A collections of oneshots, mainly revolving around Creek but may extend to others. Rating may change.
1. I'm Blue

**I'm Blue, **or **The Inner Musings Of Craig **

Craig opened his eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the soft breathing of the others in the room. He didn't mind the quiet, he actually preferred it.

And it wasn't because people irritated him like others thought - though most people _did _irritate him at some point - it was easier to think when there wasn't someone demanding his opinion on some subject he didn't care about.

_People thought he was detached, two-dimensional. They saw his stoic expressions and violent nature, and they kept away. People didn't try to talk to him - besides his friends - because it didn't seem like he would have an opinion on anything they bought up. _

_They thought he just didn't care. _

He moved his hands to sit behind his head, blowing a strand of dark hair from his eyes.

_They were wrong, of course, but Craig had no intention of telling them that. He had grown up with that detached nature, because that was his safeguard, his shield. _

_The Tucker family was displayed as a family of little interest. They went about their daily business and didn't seem interested in anything. And all that was true, they didn't care. _

_They didn't care that their son was a bully, they didn't care if he swore around them or if he skipped school. They didn't seem to care that they even had a son. At first Craig had rebelled against their disinterest. _

_He became friends with Token, which should have annoyed his redneck family. But they didn't respond, even when he invited Token over. He started bullying people, flipping everyone off and skipping school. They didn't seem to notice, they didn't read the various letters the principal sent home, and eventually the letters stopped coming. _

_Seeing no other option, Craig had adapted. Because his parents didn't listen to what he said, he stopped talking. _

_Now everything was just a habit. A habit he relied on, more then he had realised. _

_The bullying was fun, seeing the look of terror in his victim's eyes made him feel like he finally had the respect of someone. If that came out of fear, then he'd take that. He needed to feel important, like people knew he was there. _

_Clyde was an idiot, so he respected and looked up to Craig no matter how horrible the latter treated him. That was really the only reason Craig had kept Clyde around, because though he would never admit it, he loved having someone follow his every order. _

As if Clyde knew Craig was thinking about him, the brunette snorted in his sleep before rolling over. Craig glanced over at the king-sized bed Token occupied. It still felt weird to be at a sleepover at fifteen years old, but Clyde had insisted they needed to for some reason Craig hadn't been listening to.

_The personality others saw was a smoke screen. A way to keep people from finding out who he really was. _

_Craig liked the colour blue. That wasn't completely unknown, anyone could tell that from the clothes he wore each day. But they didn't know he liked music. They didn't know he listened to Adele in the privacy of his room on Friday nights. _

_What would they think if they knew he still watched Red Racer? Or that he spent most of his free time at the animal shelter, wanting to volunteer, but never quite plucking up the courage. He wouldn't be so scary if people knew he actually had hobbies and interests, because that would make him a real person. _

_He felt like he needed to keep this hidden, it would ruin the careful crafted veil he had built around himself over the years. He would lose the respect he had gained and would go back to being invisible. He couldn't show weakness. _

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he realised the weakness he was showing as he felt Tweek stir next to him.

_He beat up or flipped off people who questioned if there was something wrong with him. He was fine, they didn't know anything. And how could they accuse him of being mentally unstable when they could clearly see Tweek Tweak standing nearby. _

_Craig would've thought it would be hard to not notice the tall, wiry boy who was always pulling his hair, or had frequent outbursts in class about underwear gnomes and government agents out to get him. _

_Yes, there was definitely something wrong with Tweek, yet Craig was always the one sitting outside the counsellor's office. _

He felt Tweek's arms tighten around his stomach and vaguely wondered why he hadn't pushed the coffee lover away yet.

For someone who hated to be touched - often spouting off strange, unlikely consequences usually resulting in death or abduction - Tweek was certainly clingy once he was asleep.

This wasn't the first time Craig had woken up to find Tweek had moved from his bed to the noirette's, usually with his frail arms winding around Craig, locking them together.

He knew the blonde would freak out in the morning - throughly confused how he had moved - and he hated to admit how much he liked the feeling.

_Tweek needed him. He was the only one who could keep Tweek calm on the verge of a freak out, the only one Tweek listened to. _

_That was an amazing feeling for Craig. To have someone rely on him and unconditional trusting him was a better feeling them having someone respect him out of fear. The complete power he held over Tweek - and perhaps the other boy wasn't even aware of it - was so massive he was surprised he didn't feel the need to exploit it. _

_He just wanted Tweek to be happy. Two-dimensional, stoic Craig wouldn't have cared, but the real Craig - the one who hadn't been completely lost over the years - actually cared for Tweek. _

Unconsciously, his hand moved to touch Tweek's hair, silently marvelling in how soft it was despite all the tugging it was subjected to daily.

_Tweek reminded him of a lost puppy, obediently following the first person to show him kindness even if he didn't where he was going. That might explain why Craig cared for him though, he had a soft spot for animals. _

The clock on Token's bedside table flashed green numbers. _2:14. _Craig sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly much more tired after all that deep thought and considerations.

_Maybe, just maybe, he could lower that smokescreen just a little. For Tweek. _


	2. Headbands

******A quick shout-out to BeRightThere, my first reviewer. I'm glad you liked it and thanks for the review. The reason this chapter went weird is because I have a Mac and Pages documents aren't supported by FanFiction so I had to put the story on a .txt document and that makes it do that weird thing with the # inbetween each letter. **

**Should be fixed now, please tell me if it isn't. **

**I don't own South Park, but please enjoy the random ideas from my mind. **

**Headbands,** or **Tweek's New Hairdresser**

"-_nngh-_ What are you doing?" Tweek asked, fidgeting in his chair as Craig hovered behind him. "Y-You aren't going to -_gah-_ cut my hair off are you?" His eyes widened as his usual paranoia settled in. "Oh Jesus, please don't cut all my hair off! I -_nngh- _don't wanna be bald, Craig!" He reached up to pull at his hair, a nervous habit that probably contributed to his hair's perpetually messy state, but his hands were slapped away.

He felt Craig tugging on his bangs, pulling them vertically up off his face. The noirette grunted something in reply and continued gently scraping Tweek's hair back.

Tweek's hands moved to tug at his shirt, biting his lip as he imagined all the horrible things Craig could be doing to his hair. Cutting it, dying it, shaving it, gelling it, braiding it, the list was full of horrible outcomes.

"Ahh, Craig!" Tweek whined as he felt a particularly sharp and probably unnecessary tug.

"Stop freaking out." Craig commanded in his deep, nasally voice. "Geez, don't you ever get your hair cut?"

Tweek let out a small squeak, tugging his shirt harder. "No way, man! The -_nngh- _hairdressers, they'll kill me! Ahh, the scissors are way too sharp! -_gah- _and what if the shavers come to life and try to take over? Sweet Jesus, we'll all be controlled by shavers!" He twitched and shuddered, closing his eyes and unable to block out the images of flying razors attacking everyone South Park.

After a few more moments - and a few more harsh tugs at his hair to stop him from letting his imagination run wild - Craig pulled back with a sigh.

"That's better."

Tweek moved his hands to suss out the condition of his hair. His bangs had been pulled up and held back by... A headband? He turned to look at Craig questioningly, not used to having a clear view of things.

"I hate those bangs," Craig replied to the unspoken question, "they look gay."

Tweek twitched unconsciously, looking around. He didn't mind it, in fact he sort of liked it.

Before Tweek could get away and to class, Craig slung an arm around his shoulder and held up a camera. "Smile."

The camera flashed and Tweek flinched. He watched Craig check the photo and nearly flipped out when Craig almost smiled. _Almost._ Such a strange look for the well-known stoic boy in year 10.

"Gah! What is it? Is there a -_nngh-_ ghost in the background? Am I possessed? Craig!" He rambled on, getting no reply as his hysteria slowly increased.

Craig blinked at Tweek for a moment, waiting for him to calm before handing him the camera. Tweek grasped it between shaking fingers and frantically checked the photo for ghost, ghouls or aliens. After finding none he actually looked at the photo.

Craig looked nice as always, with his dark bangs - which confused Tweek as to why his were unacceptable - and his fading blue chullo. He was also flipping the camera off, which Tweek found odd as he had taken the photo. Did that mean he had flipped himself off?

Finally he looked at himself. His outline was a little blurred, due to his twitching, but his hair was clear enough. He could see the thin black headband holding his bangs back, though the rest of his hair had remained messy and untouched. Hairbrushes were scary too, trying to pull his hair out. He couldn't handle it, so he didn't try to.

He handed the camera back to Craig and reached up to touch the headband again, this time feeling all the way along it down to the back of his ears. He didn't know why he was doing it - and Craig was looking at him weirdly - but he felt kind of pleased that Craig had cared enough to fix his hair.

He wore it like that for the rest of the day. Craig mainly watched from the sidelines, partially curious to see how Tweek handled the snide comments for the hairstyle. He watched everyone throw in their two-cents, most of the observations were of poor taste commenting on Tweek's sexuality, leaving the poor boy spluttering and unsure of what to say.

But he also noticed that no matter what people said and how much it freaked Tweek out, he never once reached to pull out the headband. Not once.

Somewhere deep down, way past Craig's normal coldhearted emotions, he felt almost pleased. And though he refused to let others know he felt this way, that didn't stop him for pondering this new achievement. Nobody managed to ever please Craig, or even get a flicker of feeling from the noirette.

But then again, Tweek certainly wasn't nobody.


End file.
